


By Order of the Queen

by NorroenDyrd



Series: By Happy Fault of Fate [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cute Alistair, Domestic Fluff, Dragon Age Quest: In Hushed Whispers, Everyone Is Alive, Family Reunions, Fluff, Gen, Grey Warden Joining, King Alistair, Mabari, Mentioned Leliana, Redcliffe, Rescue, Warden Felix Alexius, Warden Queen, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9788642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd/pseuds/NorroenDyrd
Summary: As she and her husband arrive in Redcliffe in the aftermath of the mess caused by the rebel mages and their new Tevinter masters, Queen Cousland-Theirin suddenly senses the familiar call of the Blight in a young outsider from the north. And before he knows it, Felix Alexius is already the Queen's latest Warden conscript, off to serve the Inquisition.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of vignettes rather than a coherent story, but I hope it's still enjoyable!

_'It is going to be all right, Father'._  
_'But you will die!'_  
_'Everyone dies'._  
  
After the farewells are said, the soldiers take the captive magister away - a little gift from the kingdom of Ferelden to the Inquisition for taking care of what His Majesty referred to as the 'sneaky mage thief problem'. The Redcliffe Castle is free from wild magic and demonic machinations - again. Justice has been served; it is time to move on to other duties. And yet, the Queen lingers, eyebrows furrowed, petting absentmindedly at the folds of fur above the spiky collar of one of the many war hounds that always follow her at her heel.  
  
There was this something... A pang of sorts, when the younger Tevinter stepped away from his father, and she was able to catch a glimpse of those large, mournful eyes of his. At first she thought that she was just being a sentimental old biddy - having a glassy-gazed flashback like they do in books: remembering the crumbling towers and the tongues of flame, and her own father looking up at her, his blood pooling up dark and sticky beneath him. But no - there is more to it than that. There is something else about this Vint boy; something dark and vile like a congealed clot, bubbling within him, eating at him, calling out in a chorus of jumbled, rasping voices.  
  
'Al,' she whispers urgently, lifting her hand away from the hound and squeezing her husband's arm above the elbow. 'Al, can you feel that? The Tevinter has the Blight'.  
  
King Alistair starts and turns to look at his wife. For a moment, he is silent - but then, slowly, the frown that he had on his face, as he chastised Enchanter Fiona, fades away and melts into a smile. It will be risky, and the boy might not survive the Joining - but Maker's breath, it has been so long since they saved someone's life - in person, by their own hand, like in the old days! Even if that someone is a fishy character from Tevinter... But then again, he does not look nearly as villainous as his father. And the royal couple does keep receiving completely poison-free Antivan candy boxes for every anniversary from an elf who was supposed to kill them both. So you never know, do you?  
  
***  
  
It must be a dozenth time when Felix stumbles awkwardly, his foot twisting at an odd angle - and then gushes out a profuse apology for his clumsiness. Fereldan beaches are so unlike those back home - covered not with soft warm sand but with slippery pebbles, and so hard to trudge across while clad in Tevinter-style boots (well, at least these are not fragile-heeled Orlesian shoes, which he had to wear at university).  
  
'It's all right, pup,' the Queen chuckles, causing Felix to smile faintly in return. She is not as imposing out here, in the wilds along the Storm Coast, with her hair half-undone and her broad-shouldered overcoat flapping heavily in the sea breeze. Kind of... Kind of like Father is... was a completely different person at home and at the Magisterium... back when... back when things made sense.  
  
'Hey, you can wait here while I hunt for some of that incredibly important darkspawn blood,' the Queen slows down and points at a shallow natural crevice between the towering basalt rocks: a small but sheltered spot away from the spray of the roaring waves. 'You'll be snug as a bug in a rug... Wet, rocky sort of rug, but still. Though if it were up to me, I would have left you behind in Denerim. You would have had a grand time playing Wicked Grace with Al. And petting some of our puppers. Cheesewheel  took a real shine to you, you know - which is saying quite a lot'.  
  
'I will be fine,' Felix says resolutely. 'I want to take as much part in the ritual as possible - even if I am no fighter. And if the darkspawn do come for me here... Well, at least it will be a quick death - and poetic justice'.  
  
The Queen frowns. She has not probed her latest 'conscript' for stories about his past - it doesn't matter, really, when you are about to become a Warden. But he has let slip enough to let her surmise one thing: his mother died in the same darkspawn attack that left him tainted. And it is this knowledge that drives the lady of Ferelden to repeat, in as firm a voice as possible, the words that it took her many months to come to term with,  
  
'It was not your fault'.  
  
As she walks off, leaving the 'Vint pup' to ponder over what she told him, the swirling, ominous green funnel in the sky, which she was just beginning to get used to, suddenly flashes, blinding her and making her stagger, and rapidly shrinks into nothingness.  
  
The Queen smiles as she rubs her eyes, and mutters softly to herself,  
  
'Great job, sneaky mage thieves. Great job'.  
  
***  
  
There is no reeling, roaring dragon in Felix's nightmares - perhaps because there is no Blight coming... save for the darkness and the chaos spread by his own countrymen. But he does have visions as he collapses to the ground at the Queen's feet, with the ritual concoction burning at him with more painful force than on the worst days of his sickness, when an immense weight crushed and ground at his insides, making dense, tar-like blood rush out of his mouth in a gurgling stream.  
  
He has visions of a colossal shadow wreathed in dark smoke, with blood-tinged blaze raging behind it and something white and crisp crackling under its feet. At first, Felix thinks it might be snow: he has seen some of that odd substance during his travels south. But presently, it becomes terribly, bloodcurdlingly obvious that the shadowy figure is walking towards him over a carpet of brittle white bones; dozens and dozens of skeletons, scattered apart and half-ground into dust.  The figure stomps them even further into the ground, moving in broad strides that have a tangibly threatening air about them; and as it lifts its hand, large and clawed and grasping at something invisible in the shimmering, broiling air, Felix realizes that his is to be the next carcass in this grizzly carpet - if he doesn't run, that is. But he cannot run - his feet have become glued to the ground; he is utterly helpless, just like he was when Mother died, when Father gave in to Venatori madness. And the shadow keeps advancing, keeps clawing at the air; soon, those sharp curved talons will close round his neck, and...  
  
'Whoah, that's some mighty thrashing! You are off to a good start, recruit! We'll have to see how well you fare in a Grey Warden pie-eating contest!'  
  
The voice is friendly, loud and full of zest, dispelling the darkness that has clouded Felix's mind - not all of it, as a tiny sliver yet remains, coiling at the back of his head. But still, when he tears open his eyes and glances all over the (rather rustic, but delightfully warm) room that the King and Queen have graciously allotted him at their palace in Denerim, he sees his surroundings with more clarity than throughout most of his illness.  
  
'Is that it then?' he asks, a little groggily, focusing his gaze on the genial face of the southern monarch. Despite his angry outburst upon arriving in Redcliffe, the man has thus far been more open and easy-going than all the upper class of both Orlais and Tevinter put together - and Felix rather likes that. He could hardly imagine Archon Radonis or Empress Celene sparing any time to baby-sit a sickly outsider they found on their uncle's doorstep.  
  
'Is that it? Am I... Am I a Warden now?'  
  
'Oh, absolutely!' the King announces, with a not very subtle note of irony (while still continuing to smile). 'Not as much pomp as during the Blight: no blazing beacons or hulking ogres or treacherous generals to destroy your comrades - but the deed has been done. Your life has been extended by thirty heroic years, filled with voices in your head and... Should I fill him in on the small print, love, or will you?'  
  
The Queen, who has been doing something next to the room's entrance, comes closer; there is a small sliver of paper in her hands, and the look on her face is a little distracted.  
  
'What was that, Al?' she asks. 'I am sorry - I got too caught up in this letter from Leliana'.  
  
'Princess Stabbity?' the King visibly perks up. 'She's all right, then? What about that supposed huge fire in Haven? Were our messengers exaggerating? Please tell me they were exaggerating!'  
  
'Apparently, they were not,' the Queen lowers herself by her husband's side next to Felix's bed. There is only one chair, so King Alistair shifts to the side a little, allowing his wife to perch on the arm rest while supporting her by the waist from behind. Their pose is a little too casual for Felix's comfort, so he dives under the covers, flushing - while still keeping an ear out for what he has apparently missed while drinking darkspawn blood and writhing around unconscious.  
  
If there was a fire, the Inquisition would have hardly prioritized saving its captives... Unless Dorian asked them to... If Dorian himself escaped unscathed, that is...  
  
At this point, the pounding of his heart grows so loud that he almost misses what the Queen has to share.  
  
'Leliana says that Haven was swept over by a massive force of crazed templars, and that the fire had been caused by a dragon'.  
  
'A dragon? As in... The Arch-Demony sort of dragon?' the King asks urgently.  
  
'They are not certain,' the Queen responds, forehead creasing. 'There have been no signs of a darkspawn horde so far... Just one, very ancient, sentient darkspawn, who claims to have been there when the Black City was cursed'.  
  
The King throws up his arms in exasperation.  
  
'I told you becoming chummy with that thing was a bad idea!'  
  
'Hey, leave Archie out of this!' his wife protests. 'That wasn't him anyway. This fella wants to become a god; calls himself the Elder One'.  
  
Felix stiffens. So... So that's who... what intends to 'restore Tevinter'. He has never met the Elder One personally - or at any rate, he does not remember meeting him while conscious. From Father's feverish ramblings, he was only able to peg the master of the Venatori as very powerful, and dangerous cultist, with an insane plan to wage war against the whole world. But if he really is so ancient, and so profoundly corrupted... If he is one of the first darkspawn... If the southern Chantry's depiction of Tevinter is not actually 'libellous propaganda'... Then things are far graver than Felix has feared.  
  
In the meanwhile, King Alistair declares vehemently,  
  
'That is still Blight-level danger in my books! We ought to help the Inquisition! Men! Supplies! Does Stabbity say where they're at now that Haven is gone?'  
  
'Wandering somewhere in the Frostbacks, apparently. But she says one of their agents - an elven apostate - has an idea where to locate the new headquarters. Leliana will send another letter once she knows for sure'.  
  
Pushing himself up in bed, Felix raises his hand cautiously, like a student asking for a turn in class.  
  
'Umm... Your Majesties... Once you send men to the Inquisition... Could you consider letting a raw Grey Warden conscript join their ranks?'  
  
***  
  
The dwarven writer peers through the gap between the two heavy halves of the great hall's front door, which has been left slightly ajar.  
  
'They have taken positions,' he announces. 'Countess... I mean, the Inquisitor has climbed onto that ridiculous throne thing; Josie is there with her clipboard; the guards have marched the old fellow in... The trial is just about to start'.  
  
'Then I need to go in!' the Warden recruit fidgets nervously on the spot, fingering at the collar of his armour, while his mabari hound growls disapprovingly at the dwarf, who is blocking his path.  
  
He arrived at Skyhold in the midst of Fereldan reinforcements, tailed by this war dog of his (apparently, a farewell present from the King and Queen). Varric bumped into him completely by accident, as the boy was making hopeless loopy circles around this maze of a keep - and, instantly recognizing him as that helpful young Tevinter who had supposedly been doomed to certain death (but then apparently got rescued, just as Junior was), devised what believes to be an epic reunion scene with Sparkler and the boy's father. The Warden, however, does not seem to appreciate the subtlety of the narrative that Varric is trying to spin.  
  
'I need to be there!' he insists, pushing past the dwarf and trying to shove at the door with his shoulder, to make it swing wider. 'I need to explain...'  
  
'Just... Just wait until the Inquisitor begins, and asks something about mitigating circumstances,' Varric urges him in a dramatic half-whisper. 'And then you saunter inside and say, "I was the mitigating circumstance!". And everyone gasps, and the effect is sealed'.  
  
'Vishante kaffas, I don't care about effect!' Felix cries out, the tips of his ears flushing at the sound of his own swearing. 'I have had more than enough of that in Redcliffe!'  
  
Like a gust of wind, the sound of his voice rushes through the door, which he has by now managed to open wider. The Inquisitor starts and freezes up, forgetting all about trying to adjust her stout dwarven body to the stiff throne seat; while the chained captive in front of her grows pale and inhales shakily; and in the crowd of onlookers, another Tevinter, who has been trying to maintain a demonstratively indifferent air, bites hard into his lower lip, in order to suppress the urge of screaming something stupidly gleeful.

**Author's Note:**

> I mentioned elsewhere that Queen Tamara Cousland is the Warden in Inquisitor Maaras Adaar's universe; but since I have a lot more Inquisitors than Wardens and Hawkes, she is also the Warden in the universe of Shohana Cadash, a nerdy little dwarf whom Varric has nicknamed Countess because she's inclined towards mathematics. And apparently, Cheesewheel the mabari is going to play a prominent part in her and Felix's story, because he insisted on tagging along with his new friend (so far, Cheese has way more battle training than Felix - who will try to learn some swordplay with Blackwall's help, while thinking to himself that his Warden abilities have not yet been properly adjusted yet, because he cannot sense the Blight in Blackwall the way Tamara did in him).


End file.
